The shadowy boy was standing in front of her now, hazy like a trick of the night, Lekan wanted to reach out and touch him, at the same time she wanted to scramble back and run far away until she convinced herself that it was nothing but a trick, an image her mind had made up — the same lie she had been feeding herself since the day she began to see shadowy figures everywhere she went.

She took another step back when he grinned and touched a hand to her shoulder. Very few things scared Lekan, but the supernatural was one of them and ever since she realized she was the only one who could see the odd blood stained man sitting slouched against a fence, or the naked woman who liked to follow their fat neighbour.

Or her own father appearing at the oddest hours, Lekan had quickly learnt that the dead liked reminders of the living, that they preferred to stay close to their once loved ones or causes of their death — like that same neighbour who was later exposed and arrested for raping and killing young women.

Like this boy, sticking around the site of his death, far from letting go and moving on to whatever afterlife laid ahead.

Rooted to the spot she stood, she watched him take several steps back, shrouded in the fence lights and even hazier under it. He was grinning like he found something amusing, Lekan wanted to wipe the mocking smile off his face but was afraid to reach out to sucker punch him. She had had the dead touch her, like he had just a moment ago, but she had never initiated contact. She was afraid to.

"I don't see what's so funny?" She snapped, ignoring how her heart thudded when he took a step closer, pushing himself off the fence he rested against. Lekan raised a hand up. "Not another step closer or else."

He shook his head, his locks of hair swinging with the motion in a manner that made her jealous that her own hair barely reached her neck, for many years she had cut it short, being a thief meant getting rid of things that could get you caught, like hair that could be pulled and dragged. She had only recently let it start to grow again and now it could be barely packed into a bun without it being messy.

"Oh, it is funny, after all my pranks, clogging the bathrooms, letting taps run so someone would notice that there was something strange going on, my answer arrives on the anniversary "

Lekan blinked, still party frozen in shock that she was having a conversation with a ghost that was not her father's. And this one seemed to have a sense of humour.

She crossed her arms. "What anniversary?" She asked, ignoring the rational voice in her head telling her to run far away, to end this conversation before this ghost got attached to her. She had made the mistake once, answering an old woman's question without realising that the woman was dead, it had taken days to shake her off and it had taken the appearance of her own sick mother to do so, it turned out that the dead hated omens of death — like illnesses.

He looked at her, blinking eerily, before his smile returned, his answer was cheeky and cheerful, even as they sent a shiver down her spine. "Oh, the one year anniversary of the day I died."

Lekan shook her head. "You're crazy, there is no way, no possible way that I'm speaking to a dead person right now."

He gave a snort. "You don't seem to surprised," he gave her a pitying look. "This isn't the first time is it?"

Lekan shook her head again, this time in answer. She remained rooted to the spot, and they stood in silence for an uncomfortable moment. Strangely, she did not feel frightened, or threatened, if he wanted to harm her, he would have done so by now but Lekan wasn't stupid to think that he didn't want something from her just because he hadn't hurt her yet.

She jerked her head awkwardly at him.

"So, how did you die?"

He didn't blink, standing still in a manner that made Lekan wonder if he even needed to breath or blink, he was dead after all.

"You know, some ghosts might take offense."

Lekan didn't miss a beat. "Well you did just touch me without my permission, forgive me if my manners are lacking."

He threw back his head and laughed, Lekan couldn't help but watch, fascinated, he talked like he was alive, he laughed like he was, it was so easy to think he was and it made her fear return in a dizzying rush.

"I'll trade you that information for information in return." He said.

"I'm not sure what information I have that is any useful to a ghost."

"You need to stop saying that word, it's a number one slur in ghost language, I prefer my name, it's Zeke by the way." He informed her, pouting as if he was offended.

"I'll call you whatever I want to, ghost." Lekan sniped, it was almost funny how she went from scared to annoyed by his presence.

He sighed. "Zeke, I told you. So do we have a deal?"

She decided to humour him. "What information do you want in return?"

"How many people have died here recently?" He asked.

She blinked, unsure if he was joking or not, then she looked around at the headstones and wondered how frequently people died in Mary Slessor.

"I don't understand what kind of question that is, if you mean here like in the world, then I hate to burst your bubble — millions die in a day and more will die, I don't keep count. But if you mean here in Mary Slessor, then none."

Zeke cocked his head to the side to look her, his hands tucked into the pockets of his shorts.

"None, I'm surprised." He said, toying with a lock of his hair. "I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not."

Lekan gave a strange look, eyes narrowed and lips thinned, it was the way she looked at things and people who she didn't understand. She had been foolish to expect a ghost to make much sense.

She was in motion of turning to leave when he whistled a cat call, grinning mischievously when she glared at him, both of them knowing that she was far too scared to reach out and hit him — if she could even touch him.

"Remember our trade, information for information?" He said, stretching lazily in a manner that reminded Lekan of a cat. "It is my turn now."

His words were rushed with excitement, as if he was almost happy to answer the question about how he died. It made Lekan wary.

"How did I die?" He touched a hand to his chin in mock concentration. One moment he was standing near the fence and the next he was standing in front of her.

A scream ripped from her throat, and she stumbled several steps back, almost slipping if she didn't grip onto the pole of the clothing line behind her.

"Truth is, I don't even remember," He smiled thinly. "What I do remember was stumbling on something I wasn't supposed to know about."

"Willing to make another trade?" He taunted.

Lekan didn't wait, she whirled around and ran as fast as her feet let her. She could almost hear his mocking laughter follow her, sinister and echoing with the cry of an owl.

***

The classroom quietened down when the stocky maths teacher shuffled in through the door, bending a little so his whole tall figure fitted in, Lekan was grateful, rubbing her forehead and wishing away her headache. The man didn't bother to resume from where he stopped, instead, choosing to start a new topic and shushing the protests that rose from fifty something reluctant students.

Yesterday, Lekan had learnt that education was another thing that meant nothing to Mary Slessor, the so called teachers put up a facade when the Warden stopped to watch, and when he didn't they gave half hearted lessons and assignments they never asked for after. Her notebooks were still blank and by the looks of things, it would remain that way.

While the teacher scrawled equations and digits on the white board, and the students copied and did so while gossiping and passing notes to each other. Lekan didn't bother to uncap her pen, ignoring the looks she got from the girl seated besides.

This morning when she had woken up, beating everyone else in the dormitory, she had raced down to the bathroom, and met the shower running and had known. Zeke's words came back to haunt her, his mentions of pranks and she had known.

He claimed not to remember how he had died or what had killed him, yet his ghost was far from rest, and he was still stuck in the place of his death — that was as much as she could guess. She wondered if he was the only one, or if there were others.

She wanted to know, and she couldn't explain her sudden curiosity.

Lekan raised her head, meeting Osas's across the room where he sat, surrounded by his friends, Hassan and Tunde. He gave a tiny wave and was undeterred when she continued to stare at him, her mind already whirling with an idea.

After the class was over, she was quick to corner him, just as he was about to leave with his friends.

"Hey, can we talk?" She blurted out, unsurprised when his friends raised eyebrows of curiosity. Since when they had met at the backyard that day, Osas had been going out of his way to talk to her, stopping to greet her when he saw her out, he was never offended when she rebuffed him and now she was the one initiating a conversation.

He shifted away from where he stood at the door to make way for others who shot him irritated looks. Osas gave a nod to his friends who in turn shrugged but piled out of the classroom with the other students.

"This is surprising," He gave an uncertain smile. "You don't really seem to like talking much."

Lekan gave him glare, thinking he had been making an innuendo. He raised up his hands in surrender but was grinning like a child.

"You went there, not me."

"Sorry," She said, sounding anything but. Lekan attempted smiling to ease both their discomforts, she was sure it came out as a grimace. "I was just wondering, does the Warden keep extensive records of everyone that's ever been here?"

Osas's lips quirked up in a smile, he always seemed to be smiling, Lekan wasn't sure if she liked that or not.

"Want to steal your file?" He laughed when he saw her outraged look. "Hey, it wouldn't be the first time it happened, I'm not sure why many people think that taking them away means erasing your criminal record."

Lekan scoffed but offered no explanation, she was partly surprised that Osas spoke English well, most of the teenagers in Mary Slessor came from impoverished homes, from the dregs of the city where education wasn't a priority, they mostly spoke a modified version of it.

"So the Warden keeps files on everybody?"

Osas shrugged. "Yes, they're in his office, which is impossible to break in by the way." He told her flippantly, already bored with the conversation and was looking out the door where a fight had broken out between two boys. The chants of 'fight' grew louder as each boy pushed at each other.

We'll see, Lekan thought, then was amused by how willingly she was ready to put herself in trouble for some ghost boy that scared her more than she cared to admit. The truth was that she was sure he wasn't above using cheap tactics to scare if he wanted to, like leaving the tap running or stealing her things.

"Thanks for the help." She told Osas who perked up with renewed interest.

"You aren't really thinking of breaking into the Warden's office, are you?" He said, forehead furrowing in genuine concern.

"Of course not," She lied. Yes, she was definitely going to try.

***

The girl had learnt very early to tell when a body was reaching its final moments, the spirit would split from the body, hazy almost the point of invisibility, and would stand over its body for the longest while until death finally came. The first ghost she had ever seen wasn't her father's.

It had been her mother's and it had taken several years later to realize that the cardiac arrest that had followed was a result of that sighting — it had been a miracle that the frail woman had survived. Now as she watched Osas go, she could almost see two of him, one flesh and blood, the other shadowy and gray.